Past Life

by C S Winchester

“The same as before, your blood.”

  “You drugged that girl's blood, didn't you? That means that my blood won't be of any use to you, old man,” he laughed coldly. “You did all this for nothing.”

  “On the contrary, you will take a few days to recover but once the poison has left your system, you will be fine again.”

  A tube dropped from the ceiling.

  “That will dispense blood for you to help you to heal but don't worry, there are no victims this time, it's all from the blood bank.”

  “I don't believe you.”

  Dante could see blood slowly beginning to flow down the clear tube. Thanks to the poison and the damage that it had done to his body, he was ravenously hungry and his body almost thrummed with need. Dante closed his eyes.

  “You should have killed me the first time,” he said, turning his head away from the tube.

  He felt the first drops of blood hit his cheek and his nostrils flared as the scent hit the air, but he refused to drink.

  “Now be sensible,” Pietro said. “You need your strength.”

  “Not as much as you do,” Dante smiled and moved his head further away from the feeding tube.

  Chapter Twelve

  Frankie was interrupted from her maudlin thoughts by her mobile phone ringing. She threw aside the pad she had been doodling on and, as she scrambled in her pocket for her phone, her heart filled with hope once again; maybe Will had found something.

  She didn't bother to check the display as she answered.

  “Hello?”

  “Hi, Frankie, love.”

  “Oh. Hi, Dad.”

  “No need to sound so pleased,” he teased.

  “I'm sorry, I've just got a lot on my mind. How are you doing?” She sat forward and downed the rest of her whisky in one go.

  “I'm worried about you and your mother.”

  “Oh, Dad, this has been coming for years, it can't have been a surprise.” She headed to the kitchen to refill her glass.

  “Well, no,” he agreed. “But can't you make peace with her for the sake of keeping things civil?”

  “Mum is the least of my problems right now.”

  “What's wrong?” he sounded concerned.

  “Dante's missing.”

  “Who's Dante?”

  “Dan. You met him the other night,” she said, pouring herself a fresh drink.

  “Your young man has gone missing?”

  “He's not my young man but yes, he's been kidnapped.”

  “Can we do anything to help?”

  “I don't think so.”

  “Well, don't worry about your mother and I, we can take care of ourselves. I'm trying to convince her to move to a local hotel so that you can have your home back, but I'm not getting very far.”

  “Thanks, Dad.”

  “Take care, sweetheart.”

  “You too. Bye.”

  She hung up and sighed. With no other options she wondered about returning to the barracks and checking MI5's files again. And she should probably check her email as well.

  She looked longingly at the drink she had just poured. Right now she was probably borderline over the limit but if she drank the new glass, she definitely would be. But it helped her. With a few drinks in her there was no problem she couldn't solve, no battle she couldn't win and she actually felt like the confident person that she pretended to be most of the time.

  But she knew she couldn't risk it. She wrote a quick note for Will, grabbed her keys and headed out, leaving the drink on the kitchen side. That was her reward for when she was finished.

  Will sighed heavily and pinched the bridge of his nose.

  “Boss?”

  He opened his eyes to see D.C. Taylor standing in the doorway of his office. Will waved him in.

  “Still taking heat?” Taylor asked.

  Will nodded. “It's just such a freaky case, I'm not sure where to begin.”

  Taylor nodded his agreement. “Any ideas?”

  Will hesitated for a moment before deciding to be honest. “A friend of mine said it looked a lot like witchcraft.”

  “I can see why,” Taylor nodded.

  Will looked at the young detective as though he had grown a second head.

  “Don't tell me you believe in that mumbo jumbo?”

  “No,” Taylor smiled. “But my wife's half-sister is a wiccan, I couldn't help but pick some things up over the years.”

  Will was beginning to think that he was the only person who was unaware of the supernatural.

  “So what were you following up this morning, if you don't mind me asking?” Taylor asked.

  “I don't mind, but I don't want the brass hearing this, got it?”

  Taylor nodded.

  “I went to check out an anti-ageing cult.” When Taylor frowned at the odd leap in logic, Will continued. “That friend of mine thinks these rituals are some kind of spell or... something to prolong life. I thought that commune run by Robert Drake might be worth a look.”

  “And was it?”

  Will's expression was derisive. “No, it wasn't.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Oh, it's not your fault, I'm just in a bad mood.” He rubbed his hand over his face. “How is the tip line coming?”

  Taylor shrugged. “More chaff than wheat, but we're working our way through it slowly.”

  “Anything promising?”

  “Nah,” he shook his head. “Sightings of the guy from all over town but so far, no two the same; three people reported seeing him get into a red Jaguar but no licence plate from any of them. Still, we're checking with with DVLA and hire companies. Lots of reports of missing pets from all over Edinburgh.”

  “Any more dead pets?” Will asked.

  “Not today, unless you count two roadkill's that were called in to the tip line.”

  “Okay, I've had enough of sitting on my arse and chasing up duff leads. So far we only have one solid lead and that's the car so here's what we're going to do,” he said, his Scots accent getting stronger because he was agitated. “Get me the list of all local red Jaguar owners, either privately owned or belonging to hire companies. I'm going to see if we can get some of the beat officers to check out every single one.”

  “But without a warrant-”

  “They're just gonna look from the outside, see if there's any dog or cat hair on the seats, any sign of blood, any books called 'The Idiots Guide to Animal Sacrifice', anything unusual. I'll also see if I can get them to speak to the owners if possible and see if any of them match the descriptions we've got.”

  “I'll get the list of vehicles and talk to dispatch; let them know your plan.”

  “Thanks.” Will stood up. “I'm gonna get some strong coffee, I'll meet you down there.”

  Taylor left and Will headed towards the door but his exit was blocked by a Police Constable.

  “Sir, I'm afraid one of our detainees is asking for you.”

  “What?”

  “A female who was brought in a few minutes ago on a drink driving charge. She refused a roadside breath test and she's been asking for you ever since she was arrested.”

  “Name?” Will sighed.

  “Francis Wright.”

  “Oh, bloody brilliant.”

  Frankie had never felt so humiliated. Being pulled over was bad enough but when they brought the breathalyser out, she knew that she couldn't risk it.

  She had showed them her Security Service I.D. and hoped that would deter them, but the police weren't known for being cooperative with MI5 agents and they had insisted that she had run a red light.

  Now she was sitting alone in a cell waiting for Will, hoping against hope that he could save her.

  When Will opened the hatch in the door, he could see her sitting on the cot, her head in her gloved hands. She didn't look up at the noise.

  Reluctantly he closed the hatch and opened the door. Finally she looked up at him. He expected to be angry with her, he wanted to berate her for being so stupid as to drink in the mid
dle of the day, but in the event he had never seen Frankie look so fearful before and his harsh words evaporated. He opened his arms to her and she walked into his embrace and hugged him.

  “Oh, Frankie,” he breathed.

  She didn't respond but he thought from her ragged breathing that she might be crying. The Frankie he knew didn't cry. He gently stroked her back until she finally pulled away from him and smiled weakly.

  “Did you?” he asked, not wanting to say too much because the cell had a CCTV camera in it. Almost imperceptibly she nodded.

  “But n-”

  He put a finger over her lips to silence her and she reared away from him in shock, her hand flying to her lip. He realised that he'd touched her without gloves.

  “Sorry, I didn't think.” He knew that now she would know know exactly how disappointed in her he was.

  When he'd come down here he had intended for her to take the punishment she deserved, but now he wasn't so sure he could go through with it. She certainly wasn't acting drunk so she was probably borderline anyway. Hell, she might not even be over the limit.

  “Stay here, I'm going to speak to the Duty Sergeant.”

  Frankie nodded and sat down on the bed.

  Will had known the Duty Sergeant, Ken Jacobs, for a long time and they were on friendly terms, so he hoped that would help his case. He asked for a private chat and was escorted into one of the interview rooms.

  After a few pleasantries, Will launched into his argument.

  “I know she wouldn't take a breathalyser test but she has obsessive compulsive disorder. She hates touching things with her skin and the idea of blowing into a strange tube was unbearable to her.”

  Ken's demeanour said that he didn't believe Will.

  “I'll bet she refused to be printed too?” Will added.

  Ken nodded.

  “Then check the CCTV footage of her cell as well. A couple of minutes ago I forgot and touched her lip, she reacted as f I'd burned her.”

  “Okay, I'll take a look after we're done, but she was very belligerent to my officers. Why didn't she explain things to us?”

  “Because for her, the only thing worse than having OCD is having to tell people. She's incredibly proud and hates to appear weak. If you don't believe me, call her bosses at MI5; it's someone called Maxwell Holden, he'll confirm everything I've told you. I've known her since she was at university, she's spiky, rude and sometimes arrogant, but it's all a cover. She has no idea how great she really is. She's a good person, Ken, and she's brilliant at her job.”

  Ken seemed to be softening.

  “What did she actually do?” Will asked.

  “She ran a red light.”

  “Oh come on, Ken, we've all cut it close at a light before. I'd also bet good money that her bosses will squash any attempt to prosecute her, so why not just save yourself some paperwork and release her?”

  Ken regarded him closely. “Do you believe she was drinking?” he asked.

  “No. Her friend has gone missing and if there's one thing you can rely on, it's her loyalty. She would never drink while he was still in danger.” He was surprised as how easily the lie came.

  “Who's missing?”

  “It's not a police case, MI5 are handling it and I don't know most of the details. Please trust me, it's not in the British public's interest to pursue a case against her.”

  Ken nodded. “I'll need to make a phone call.”

  “Aye. I'll wait here.”

  Will perched on the side of the table as he waited for Ken to return, and wondered who Ken was calling. His boss? The Superintendent, perhaps? Frankie's boss?

  Probably all three, he thought.

  Just as he began to wonder what was taking so long, Ken returned. He looked worried.

  “What?”

  “She's free to go,” he said, gruffly, turning to leave.

  “Wait, what's wrong?”

  Ken turned back and hesitated for a moment before answering.

  “She's Black Ops, Will. They won't tell us what she's doing and I don't like that she's doing it in my city.” He looked down the hall. “She might be tiny but whatever she's mixed up in is some serious shit, and you need to think about that.”

  Will nodded. “Aye, I will. Can I take her home now?”

  Ken nodded and Will followed him out of the room.

  Will didn't feel good about lying to his friend, and he wasn't exactly happy with Frankie either. As he stepped into her cell, she looked up at him, with big trusting doe eyes and he mentally kicked himself as his anger abated once again.

  He sighed heavily. “They're not pressing charges,” he said.

  He wasn't sure what he expected but it wasn't for Frankie to be meek.

  “Thank you,” she said quietly but sincerely.

  “Come on, I'll take you home.”

  The journey home was silent and Frankie was clearly upset. Once inside the apartment, Will set about making them both coffees. Frankie spotted the glass she had left on the counter and eyed it with equal parts longing and revulsion.

  Will took the decision away from her as he tipped the contents down the sink and put the bottle away.

  Frankie sat down at the breakfast counter and waited for him to say something. He placed a mug down on the breakfast bar in front of her and sat opposite. She wouldn't look at him.

  “Just tell me why?” he said.

  Frankie shrugged.

  “You know you drink too much, Frankie, and you were lucky today. One of these days you're going to get into real trouble or worse, hurt someone.”

  Frankie wrapped her hands around the mug and took a sip.

  “Don't sulk, it's not becoming.”

  “I'm not sulking,” she snapped, meeting his gaze for the first time since they left the station.

  “Then talk to me!”

  “All right! I was frustrated, okay? My friend is missing and God knows what evil things are being done to him, if he's even still alive. I can't find him and it's killing me, okay! Is that what you want to hear?”

  “No. We both know this isn't just about today, Frankie. You've been drinking too much ever since I met you, and it's only got worse with time. I'm worried about you.”

  “You don't need to worry about me, I can take care of myself.”

  Will was silent for a few moments, knowing how much she would hate his next remark.

  “Like you did today?” he said softly.

  She glared at him but tears were shining in her eyes. Frankie was never vulnerable and the fact she had been today was bad enough. That her friend was now using that against her, hurt.

  “Fine. If you don't want to be there for a friend, then I'll get out of your hair.”

  She got off her stool and headed for the door, but Will caught her arm and turned her back.

  “Don't,” he warned.

  “Don't what? I know just how little you think of me now,” she said, reminding him of his brief touch in the jail cell.

  “Frankie, I was upset and angry, okay? I don't want you to go.”

  “Too bad, because I want to go.” She struggled to get free but he gripped her harder.

  “Frankie... Don't throw away the one person you've got left.”

  Her struggling ceased as she looked up at him, stung by his words. He thought for a second that she might start really fighting him but instead she threw herself at him and hugged him as she began to cry.

  “Oh, Frankie. Shh,” he crooned as she cried.

  Will was used to Frankie being cool, calm and in control; she got angry of course, sometimes she became frosty, but she was never out of control. He could see now that it was only because she bottled everything up; eventually the pressure had become too much and she needed to vent. After to the fight with her parents, then her worry over Dante, he should have been expecting something like this to happen.

  He had no idea how long he held her for, but his arms were starting to ache when she finally pulled away.

  “I'm sorry
, Will. I don't want to lose you too. And I'm sorry I've been such an idiot.”

  “Hey,” he wanted to cup her face but he didn't have gloves on, so he settled for touching her shoulder. “You made a mistake, that's all. Everyone does stupid things sometimes. No one was hurt and no damage has been done, right, so stop beating yourself up. The important thing is to learn from this.”

  “You're right.” She nodded.

  “Good. Now go and have a shower, change into some fresh clothes and you'll feel much better.”

  “I can't use your shower,” she confessed. “Not without a new shower mat.”

  Will nodded. “Right. Well how about a wash and change then?”

  She nodded and smiled weakly. “That sounds good.”

  “You will eat eventually,” Pietro's smug voice assured Dante.

  Dante could tell by the position of the sun that it had been about twelve hours since he had woken up and not only was he starving, he was in pain. He was equally certain that he would not eat any time soon.

  “Make me,” he laughed, though considering the state he was in, it sounded rather pathetic.

  “I don't have to. You won't be able to resist the smell much longer.”

  “Maybe you have no impulse control, but I do.”

  “You know that if you don't eat, the poison you ingested will eventually kill you.”

  “Yeah,” he said, smiling a little wider. “And you too.”

  For the first time Pietro's composure slipped. “Then we'll do it like last time,” he said. “I have no objection to knocking you unconscious and force feeding you.”

  “Except that unlike last time, you didn't prepare for that eventuality and you'll have to do it in person; but you also know that as soon as you step foot in this room, your mind will be mine.”

  Pietro gave an inhuman cry and threw something off camera that Dante couldn't see.

  “I'll start killing,” he said. “So far your blood supply is from a blood bank but if you keep this up, I'll start killing innocent people like I did last time.”

  Dante's smile turned grave.

  “I know. But if I give in we'll just be here in another hundred years. If I stop you now, at least the killing stops forever.”

  “So that's your argument, sacrifice the few to save the many? You'll feel differently when you have to watch me killing someone.”